Chapter 4: The Last Word
Luke, Bo, and their Uncle Jesse sat in the living room of the small farmhouse in rural Hazzard county. After their last discussion earlier that afternoon about looking for Daisy, no one had had much heart to say anything else.
“Sure is quiet here without her,” said Bo, mostly to himself.
“That it is, cuz,” answered Luke.
“Boys, I’d like ya’ t’ come here for a minute,” said Jesse.
Both stood up and knelt down by the chair where their uncle sat. He looked at them in turn and laid a hand on a shoulder of each before speaking. When he did, his voice was rough. “I jest wanted you boys t’ know how much I love ya’. I don’t know that I tell ya’ that often enough, but I do.
Together both of them hugged him.
“We know that, Uncle Jesse,” said Bo. “You just stop your worryin’. We’ll get her back in no time, you’ll see.”
The older man kissed his nephew on the forehead. “We have t’ remember that it’s not in our hands. It’s in God’s hands, and I think we need to make sure we ask him for help.” Both boys, arms still interlocked with their uncle’s, bowed their heads.
“Lord,” he prayed, “we know that you watch over all of us, and that you hold us in the palm of your hand. You’ve given us each other, Lord, and that’s the greatest gift that we could ever ask for, but now one of us is lost. We ask that you watch over our Daisy and protect her, and send us someone that can help us find her. We..,” a loud knocking at the door interrupted him. The three looked up at each other, confused. “Amen,” finished Jesse.
Bo and Luke got up with him, but he shook his head. “You boys stay here, I’ll see who it is.”
He made his way through the kitchen to the door, flipping on the porch light before answering it. He opened the door and did a double take. Standing in the doorway was none other than the long lost former deputy of Hazzard county, Enos Strate.
“God Almighty…”
“Hi, Uncle Jesse,” he said shyly, “I’m sorry to bother you so late at night.”
“No, no! That’s fine, Enos,” he said, moving aside from the door. “You’re as welcome here as y’ ever were. Come on in.”
“Thank ya’ kindly,” he said as he nervously stepped into the kitchen.
“Enos!” Luke came over to him and gave him a brotherly hug. “You sure are a sight for sore eyes, though I wish it were on a happier occasion.”
“I know what ya’ mean, Luke. Hey Bo.”
“Enos Strate,” marveled Bo, “s’been a long time, buddy.” He shook the man’s hand. “Oh shoot.” Bo, too, gave him a hug.
“I sure have missed y’all,” said Enos, “and that’s th’ truth. You’re right, Luke, I wished it were under better circumstances.”
“Come on in here a take a seat, Enos,” said Uncle Jesse. “We’ll tell you what all we don’t know.”
They went back into the living room and told him what had happened to the best of their knowledge, which wasn’t much. Daisy’d been to the bank to pay the mortgage and then she had simply disappeared and hadn’t come home.
Enos thought for a minute. “Did you have Rosco pull the tapes from the bank?”
“Huh?”
“The video surveillance tapes,” he explained. “There’s a camera that captures anyone comin’ or goin’ there. It’ll probably show some of the street, too. If she parked in front, we might be able t’ see if anyone got in with her.”
“Well I’ll be dad gummed,” said Jesse, bewildered. “I would’a never thought o’ that.”
“I s’pose it’s a good thing Rosco called Atlanta after all,” said Luke. He turned to Enos. “There’s a detective gonna be comin’ down from Atlanta tomorrow to work on th’ case.”
“I heard about that, but there’s been a little change of plans there.”
“What’s that?” asked Luke.
“Well, th’ detective ain’t from Atlanta. I’m th’ detective.”
“Come again?” said Bo.
“I had Cooter pull some strings. Ain’t no city-slicker detective gonna be able t’ find anything up there in them hills. You know that, Bo.”
“Yeah, but Enos. I mean, we’re mighty obliged to ya’ an’ all, but…”
Enos felt his face flush. In the last four years, he’d proved himself to the LAPD. He’d practiced religiously until he was an excellent sharpshooter and could avoid tripping over his own feet most of the time and had been accepted onto one of the SWAT teams. Then as a capable detective, rising up through the ranks to become one of the lead detectives on the force. No one here knew about any of that, though. To them he was still the same guy who’d left them with little more experience than how to get his car dunked in Hazzard pond. Still the skepticism on their faces cut into his pride.
“I made detective first class at the LAPD, Bo, and this ain’t the first case I’ve ever had…or solved, an’ I think you know I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t mean a lot to me.”
The Dukes shared a quick look between them. “Now hey, Enos,” said Bo, “don’t get your dander up. It’s just been a long time, that’s all. You haven’t really kept in touch, ya’ know.”
“Bo…” Luke gave him a look that meant ‘shut up’.
“That’s okay, Luke,” he said, sadly. “I doubt that my days as Deputy Sheriff of Hazzard would inspire much confidence in anyone.”
“Boys, just back off now,” said Jesse. “Lord knows he’s has had more experience doin’ this sort of thing than we have. Enos, what do ya’ need us to do to help ya’ out?”
Enos’s mind automatically shifted into the role of detective, putting aside the fact that the missing person was Daisy, he focused on what needed to be done. “Well, the first thing I need to know is if she’s had any contact lately with anyone who might want to do her harm. Strange phone calls, letters, that sort of thing.”
“I don’t think so,” said Jesse. “She would’ve said something if there was.”
Enos looked him in the eye. “That means from her ex-husband, too.”
Jesse met his gaze. “We ain’t seen hide nor hair of that ol’ sidewinder in three years,” he replied, quietly.
“Enos,” said Luke, “you’re not supposin’ that L.D. had somethin’ to do with this, are ya’?”
He shook his head. “No, most likely not, but I wouldn’t be doin’ my job if I didn’t ask. Would you mind, Uncle Jesse, if I took a look at her room?”
Jesse stood up, and the others followed after him. “No, you’re welcome t’ whatever you think’ll help ya’. Boys, would ya’ get th’ spare room ready? Enos, I know you ain’t going out t’ yer ma’s in th’ middle of the night. You’re welcome t’ stay here s’long as ya’ need to.” Bo and Luke left down the hallway.
“Thank you, Uncle Jesse. That’s mighty kind of ya’. I’ll try not t’ get in your way.”
The old man laid a hand on Enos’s shoulder. “Son, I know what she meant to ya’. I’m awful sorry for what happened.”
Enos dropped his eyes, away from Jesse’s shrewd blue ones. “No matter what happened otherwise, sir, Daisy’s always been like family to me. Just like the rest of y’all are.”
Jesse opened the door to Daisy’s room. “You take all the time you need to in there. The boys’ll have the guest room set up for you whenever you’re done. You remember where it is.”
“Thank you, Uncle Jesse.”
With that the older man left him alone in the doorway of Daisy’s room. Jesse met Bo and Luke as they were coming out of the guest room.
“It’s all set up, Uncle Jesse.”
“Thank you, boys. You best be getting’ some shut-eye, won’t do anybody any good if you’re fallin’ over tomorrow.”
“Say, Uncle Jesse,” said Luke, “why do ya’ reckon Enos wanted to take this up on himself? I don’t think I ever blamed him for leavin’ an’ never comin’ back.”
Jesse turned and could still see Enos standing by the door of Daisy’s room, lost in thought.
“There’s a lot of hurtin’ in that boy, Luke, I can see it in his eyes. There’s a point in every man’s life when he has to decide what’s really important to him, even if it’s takin’ the hard road, but it’s times like those when he finds out what he’s made of. You know, I’m glad it’s Enos instead of some stranger from Atlanta. I know he’ll do everything he can to find her…”
Enos finally stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Little had changed from when they were kids, the same furniture, the same bedspread, even some of the pictures on the wall were the same. He felt like he’d been swept into a time machine and stepped out thirty years ago. The last time he’d been in here, Uncle Jesse had nearly tanned his hide.
He’d been thirteen and Daisy eleven. She’d gone on and on about something she’d wanted him to see, some article from one of her cousin’s racing magazines that she’d pilfered from his stash. It wasn’t unusual for Enos to be over at the Duke farm, especially if his pa’ was making a shine run that day. Uncle Jesse had found them in her room, laughing and drawing mustaches and beards on all the people in Luke’s’ magazines. Enos could still hear him yelling at him about how a teenage boy had no business being in a girl’s room, and if he ever found him in there again he wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.
Enos and Daisy had been nearly inseparable back then, even though Luke was closer to him in age than she was. They looked out for each other. Both of them came from poor families and her Uncle Jesse and his father, Otis Strate, ran moonshine together. The four of them – Enos, Luke, Bo, and Daisy, had grown up as close as siblings.
The other’s at school didn’t always take kindly to runner’s kids. Enos never minded so much, he had thick skin when it came to insults, but hot-tempered Daisy could never stand by and let it be. He’d invariably end up pulling her away before she got herself in trouble, and they’d cut school and go fishing until things settled down.
As they grew older, their roles reversed. Enos was sixteen when he threw his first punch in defense of Daisy’s honor. She’d let it slip to him one day about a freshman who’d followed her to the creek after school. The boy didn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word “No”, and Daisy had only just managed to get away from him.
When the boy showed up at school again after missing the next week, he was nursing a broken nose and three cracked ribs along with an assortment of colorful bruises. He told everyone he’d been in a car wreck – there was no way he was admitting to anyone that mild mannered, uncoordinated, Enos Strate had beat the living daylights out of him. He’d been her self-appointed protector ever since then, until she’d married L.D.
Before he’d left for the Police Academy, no one had known Daisy Duke better than Enos. He also knew where she hid her diary, or at least where she did twenty years ago. Hoping against hope, he went around to the far side of her bed and pulled up the bedspread. There was a rip in the fabric of the box springs about six inches long. Doubting that he would find anything, he stuck his hand through the hole. His fingers caught the edge of something, and he pulled out a hardbound notebook about half an inch thick.
Page after page was filled with her neat script. Each day was logged at the top of a new page, but as he flipped through the book, he came to a large section that had been ripped out. Everything from January 28th 1985 to December 23rd of that year was gone. The last journal entry was January 17th 1986. It ended there, with half a book of pages still blank and nothing from the last three years. The missing pages encompassed the entire time between and including when they had almost been married until after L.D. had left her. More importantly it wouldn’t give him any clues at all to her disappearance.
As tempting as it was, Enos refrained from reading any of it. It was none of his business. He was putting the journal back into its hiding place in the bed when it fell from his fingers to the floor. An envelope, placed in the empty back pages, slipped from the book. He picked it up and turned it over. On the envelope was a single name – Enos.
His hands shook slightly as he opened the unsealed envelope, pulled out a piece of paper, and began to read.
“Dear Enos,
It’s taken me a long time to write this, and even now I don’t know what to say. All I know is that “I’m sorry” can never make right what I did to you. There’s a million excuses I could use to make it all sound reasonable, but to tell you the truth I think I might have been the only one who ever believed them.
I pray every night that you’ve made a good life for yourself out in California, Lord knows I sure did a number on mine. I wasn’t ready to be married, not to anyone, and I should have been honest with you about that, but I was so worried about hurting your feelings that I just didn’t know how. Instead I ran away from it, and you know I can do some crazy things when I’m not thinkin straight.
I can’t explain why, but at the time I thought I was doing you a favor, especially after talking to your mom. I wanted you to move on and find someone who deserved you, not someone who was always snookerin you. I know I’ve been guilty more than once of using your feelings for me to get out of trouble, but you’ve got to believe that I never meant for you to get hurt, and now that I can look back on what happened, I’m so ashamed of how I acted. I guess I wouldn’t know what to say to you if you were here, even though I miss you something awful. I guess it’s like Uncle Jesse always says, you don’t appreciate the sun until there’s nothin but rain.
There must be something wrong with me, because if there wasn’t I would never have let you leave. You’re the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful man I’ve ever known. I don’t know that I’ve ever understood what love really is or what I’ve been looking for. I wish I…”
The letter ended there, unsigned, unfinished, unsent.
“Possum on a gum-bush,” he whispered, “what the heck was Daisy talkin’ to my ma’ for?”
There was nothing else in Daisy’s room that would have given any clue as to her disappearance so once Enos had returned the letter and the journal to its hiding place inside the bed he made his way through the dark farmhouse to the guest bedroom.
The last time he’d slept here was when Boss had fired him and Scanion was trying to kill him. Closer to his heart though were all the nights spent here as a kid when his dad and Uncle Jesse had been making a run, and Aunt Lavinia had come around to tuck them each in with a hug and a good-night kiss. Sometimes growing up Enos had felt more like a Duke than a Strate, though he was close to his pa’.
Otis Strate had been the business end of the shine running between himself, Jesse Duke, and Moses Davenport. Every spring he’d visit each moonshiner in turn, taking orders for runs and checking the quality of the product. He’d absolutely forbid Enos from tagging along when he was younger, but after his son turned twelve he decided that bringing the boy along to hold an extra shotgun mightn’t be a bad idea, besides he figured he could teach his son some business skills. Despite his mother being horrified by the idea of her only child wandering around with his father visiting distilleries, Enos couldn’t have been happier. His pa’ had taught him well, too. By fourteen he’d known every road, every revenuer trap, and every moonshiner in the hills.
He’d learned to respect their way of life, too. Just like he knew his father skirted the law to put food on their table, those people in the hills with only a shack and a still to their name made the Strate’s look like millionaires. Being a moonshiner was a often a hard – but short, life.
Enos finally fell asleep, his mind still running over what needed to be done the next day.